


The Morning After

by TransManWillGraham (BisexualHannibalLecter)



Series: Eat Your Heart Out [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Brief Reference to Past Sexual Abuse, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Trans Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualHannibalLecter/pseuds/TransManWillGraham
Summary: Will and Zeller wake up together in the aftermath of Will's emotional breakdown and have a long overdue conversation.Sequel toBlue Paint
Relationships: Will Graham/Brian Zeller
Series: Eat Your Heart Out [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891141
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna hurt and I'm not sorry. Enjoy :)) <3
> 
> Fills the "A terrible feeling" in my Hannibal Bingo card!

Will awakens the same way he fell asleep, safely cradled in the arms of his friend, his head tucked under Zeller’s chin and his face buried in his shirt. He hums softly before yawning against Zeller’s chest, burying his face in the other man’s shirt to shield his eyes from the early morning sunlight.

“Morning to you, too,” Zeller says, stroking his back lightly.

“Mornin’,” Will responds, his accent sneaking its way out in his tired state.

Zeller kisses the top of Will’s head. “Feeling okay?”

Will takes a moment to think. He shifts a bit, seeking a more comfortable position as he recalls the events of last night. He doesn’t feel dirty, doesn’t feel ashamed in the way he would feel if he had gone out and looked for someone to fuck him and leave. But he does feel slightly guilty.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was pushy.”

“You were needy,” Zeller corrects. “Seeking some sort of stability. You wanted to feel normal. I can’t fault you for that, Will.”

“I went after you the moment we were alone. Begged you to stay, begged you to kiss me—”

“I offered to take you home, Will. I care about you.” He kisses Will’s forehead. “So much.”

“I know. And I—”

“And you leaned on me in your time of need. I offered you a shoulder to cry on and you took it. Don’t beat yourself up over getting help from someone who wanted to take care of you.”

Will is silent for a few minutes, allowing himself to absorb Zeller’s words as he snuggles closer. Finally, he says, “I just needed to feel safe again. You’re the only person who… It was so  _ bad _ , Brian.” Will begins to shake and tears well in his eyes. “I saw him. I lived through it all over again and I couldn’t stop it and I…”

Zeller shushes Will and rubs circles into his back. “I know,” he whispers. “I know. I’m right here, Will. And he’s been in another country for well over a year. He can’t touch you from all the way over there. He can’t hurt you.”

They spend several more minutes in bed, Zeller rubbing Will’s back and kissing his forehead as he whispers more comforting reassurances under his breath. Once Will is calm again, they separate.

“I think I need a shower,” Will says. “So do you.”

“Because I’m covered in lab chemicals?” Zeller asks.

Will laughs. “Yes. Covered in fuckin’ lab chemicals and rolling around in my bed.”

“You’ve been saying that shit since we were roommates in college, Will,” Zeller replies, elbowing Will in the ribs good-naturedly. “How many times do I have to explain, any residue that’s left on me is—”

“Completely and totally non-lethal and not worth worrying about, because you wear proper protection and take all the necessary precautions,” Will finishes, poking him in the chest. “I know. I’ll go shower and throw your clothes from last night in the wash. Could you take the dogs out for me?”

Zeller nods. “Sure. Don’t take an hour, though,” he teases.

Will slaps his arm before gathering their dirty clothes from the day before and heading for the washing machine.

Zeller watches him go, rubbing the spot on his arm and thinking about how many times he’s watched Will get up and leave their bed. Too many times, he thinks. Far too many.

Zeller grasps the sheets between his fingers, taking another moment to enjoy his environment before getting up and heading into the living room. He calls for the dogs and opens the front door, nearly getting knocked over by the largest of the pack as they all scramble out the door, barking and yipping excitedly.

An hour and a half later, Will and Zeller are clean, fully dressed, and sitting together in the kitchen as Will makes breakfast. The door to the kitchen is closed, keeping out the dogs, but it does not deter Buster from scratching at the wood and whining.

Will chuckles softly to himself as he listens to the noise, feeling lighter than he had earlier.

Zeller watches Will relax, watches him move about the room looking comfortable and content. As he takes in the scene, one he’s watched many times over the years, though none of them recent, he wonders what happened to them all those years ago— what happened to make Will leave their apartment. To leave  _ him. _

“What happened to us?” Zeller asks, voice barely audible. He hopes Will didn’t hear him.

Will tenses, giving away that he heard Zeller, and swallows nervously. He doesn’t reply, and Zeller doesn’t push the subject further. Will reaches over to turn the burner off once the food is finished cooking, and his fingers stay on the knob, brushing over the metal and plastic. He opens his mouth, but the words seem stuck in his throat. His eyes, blurring with tears, stayed glued to the time displayed on the stove. It’s nearly ten in the morning. He tries to concentrate on that, on one little thing, but his mind feels like it’s spinning.

Strong arms wrap around Will from behind and he tenses again at the unexpected contact. Regardless, he leans back against Zeller’s chest and tries to say something, anything, but his mouth will only open and shut silently. He tries to focus on centering himself.

“I know,” Zeller whispers, holding him tightly and stroking one of his arms. “I know, Will. I’m sorry for asking—”

“I don’t know,” Will chokes out. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t know how to say the rest. He doesn’t know how to say,  _ I loved you. I loved you so much and I’m sorry. I was scared. I was so scared of so much and I ran away and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.  _ He doesn’t know how to explain it, so he turns, sinks into Zeller’s embrace, and cries.

He lets Zeller kiss his forehead and stroke his back and whisper sweet nothings like he has so many times before, but a terrible feeling blooms in his chest. He knows he’ll have to run away or drive Zeller off. This isn’t sustainable, and he can’t accept that it ever could be. But he can enjoy himself one last time.

Will leans up, even as the tears continue to roll down his cheeks and his breath shudders, and kisses Zeller.

“I’m sorry I ran off like that,” he says, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry it took a long time for me to apologize. I’m sorry I’ve never told you why. I’m sorry—”

Zeller interrupts Will with another kiss.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he says. “Because there’s nothing to forgive. I was hurt when you left, but I know you didn’t leave to hurt me. You left because you were hurting, or scared, and you thought if you ran away from your problems you could keep them at bay forever.”

“But I can’t,” Will replies. “I know that now.” He blinks away more tears that gather in the corners of his eyes. “You made me feel so safe,” he says, smiling slightly. “Loved. Cared for. I couldn’t… I couldn’t think about us, or you, without thinking about how happy you made me, but it also reminded me of what upset me in the first place. I didn’t want to be a burden, Brian, and I—”

“Never,” he says. “You’re never a burden. I…”

The sentence is left hanging, but Will knows the words that were almost spoken. It wouldn’t be the first time those words were spoken between them, either, but Will could no longer say them with the same meaning. He doesn’t love Zeller the same way he once had. He feels guilty about it as he locks eyes with Zeller and sees the emotions clear as day on his face.

“I know,” is all he can say, offering Zeller another soft, pained smile. He kisses him. “I know.”

Zeller cups Will’s cheek in his hand, thumb brushing away his tears. “Did…” He bites the inside of his cheek. “Did you know it would be our last time?” he asks. “That morning? That day you left?”

Will leans into the touch. “I hoped it wasn’t. I hoped I’d see you again in a few years when I was better.” He laughs humorlessly. “Got half of it right, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t have to be the last time,” Zeller whispers.

“Are you done treating me like glass?”

Zeller swallows. “If that’s okay.”

Will nods and pulls Zeller in for a searing kiss. “Bed,” he requests softly.

“But the food—”

“Forget it,” Will whines, tangling a hand in Zeller’s hair, eyes wide and pleading.

Never one to deny Will, Zeller grabs him by his thighs, helping Will wrap his legs around his waist as he kisses him again.

“Anything,” he breathes against Will’s lips. “Anything for you.”

Will doesn’t know how to explain to Zeller that he isn’t capable of  _ anything _ , of the thing Will truly wants, so he doesn’t. He kisses him again and allows himself to be carried to bed, breakfast forgotten on the stove.

* * *

The shrill ringing of a cell phone breaks the peaceful silence of the room. Zeller groans and rolls over, sheets barely clinging to his naked form as he reluctantly leaves the warmth of Will’s body and reaches out blindly for the device, having only pulled away from Will twice during the entire affair— once to use the bathroom, and once to get them food. His fingers finally close around it and he squints at the screen for a moment before swiping at the answer icon.

“Hello?” he mumbles into the phone, finding his way back to Will.

Will snuggles up against Zeller, throwing an arm and leg over him to keep him in place.

Zeller hums and plants a kiss in his hair. “Yeah,” he says into the phone. “Uh-huh.” He purses his lips after a few moments and pulls the phone back, checking the time. It’s nearly two in the afternoon. “Yeah, uh, give me an hour. And I’ll need some time to wash up when I get there. Yeah, sounds perfect. Okay, bye.” Zeller hangs up and drops the phone onto the mattress behind him. “I gotta go. An intern fucked up some stuff, Price needs me to come help him fix it before Jack finds out.”

Will hums as Zeller idly traces the surgical scars on his chest. “You could call him back, ask for an extra thirty minutes,” he suggests.

“Already up for another round?” Zeller teases, his hand drifting down to Will’s thigh.

Will can’t hide the emotion in his voice when he replies, “I don’t want that to be our last time.”

A terrible feeling begins to form in the pit of Zeller’s stomach, anchoring him to the bed. “It doesn’t have to be,” he says. “I can come back—”

“No,” Will says. “When you go… This has to end when you leave. If we keep doing this we’re— I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Zeller tells him, stroking his thigh comfortingly. “But explain. Please.”

Will leans his forehead against Zeller’s and sighs. “I’m not in love with you anymore.” He can practically hear Zeller’s heart break. He feels him begin to pull away and he stops him. “Don’t move. Not until I’m finished.”

Zeller nods silently and waits for Will to continue, his fingers shaking slightly against Will’s thigh.

“I was in love with you when we lived together. I think I fell in love with you back in undergrad, actually.” He places his hand over Zeller’s. “That’s why I ran away. Things were getting very serious, and you were going to acknowledge that soon, and I had to stop it. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to be a burden, and I couldn’t take the idea that someone really loved me. Not at the time, at least. The pain was fresher then, and you were the only one that really knew about it, and knew  _ me _ , and… it was just too much. I got scared and I ran, just like you said. And after so much time had passed, I felt too ashamed to call you and tell you what was wrong.” 

Zeller moves slightly, pulling him closer. “Will…”

Will laces their fingers together. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I appreciate what you’ve taught me and how you’ve helped me grow. I appreciate your company and your friendship and your kindness more than you will ever be able to understand. I love you, but it’s not the same way you love me. I’ve changed while we were apart, I’m different, and I need you to trust me when I say that, against what we both want and would like to believe, this isn’t sustainable.”

“Is that true or are you just running again?” Zeller asks.

Will kisses him on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I’m not running from us anymore, Zeller, because there is no  _ us _ left. I wish…” He squeezes Zeller’s hand and wills away the tears in his eyes, but his voice still cracks with emotion. “I wish things were different. I wish I still loved you like you love me. I wish everything could be normal, but it can’t, and I’m—”

Zeller kisses him. He kisses him softly and slowly, like he’s saying goodbye.

Will kisses back just the same, knowing this  _ is _ their goodbye.

“Never apologize for how you feel.”

Will nods. As his emotions settle down, he finally becomes aware of how sticky he feels. “I’m going to wash up,” he whispers, beginning to slip away from Zeller. “I’ll see you at work.”

Zeller watches as Will pulls away from him, until the only thing connecting them is their hands, still clasped together, fingers still intertwined. For a moment, Zeller thinks about pulling Will back in bed, kissing him hard enough that he might change his mind. He shakes off the thought and slowly but surely lets him go.

“See you at work.”

He watches Will leave their bed for the last time, a bittersweet ache in his chest.

* * *

When Will exits the shower, he finds himself alone in the house. 

He pads quietly through the house, ignoring the dogs sniffing and pawing at his legs as he checks to make sure Zeller is gone. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he finds no evidence of the man’s presence except the rumpled bed sheets and the slight depression in the pillow on the left side of the bed.

Will takes the towel from around his waist and dries his shoulders, catching droplets of water from the ends of his hair. He walks over to the dresser for a pair of boxers and notices something odd— the bottom drawer had been left slightly ajar. He kneels to close it, and the bit of light shining on the wooden bottom of the drawer makes his heart stop.

Will yanks the drawer open, hitting his knees with the hard edge, but he barely notices the pain. He stares at the drawer, which used to hold Zeller’s extra clothes, now empty save for one white t-shirt. Will’s fingers close around the folded square, bringing closer, and a drop of water splashes onto the fabric. Will doesn’t need to touch his face to know it isn’t the water dripping from his hair. He blinks away the rest of the tears and drops the shirt back into the drawer, shoving it back into the dresser.

Will stands back up and dries his hair with his towel before tossing it in the small hamper in the corner and beginning to dress himself. He pulls on a pair of boxers and one of his own t-shirts, then socks, jeans, a flannel shirt, and his boots. He looks like he always does, and yet he couldn’t feel further from his normal self.

He tries to focus on eating, on playing with his dogs, on reading a book, on watching a movie, on fishing in the stream a mile behind his home, but every attempt at righting himself only proved futile. With nothing else left to do, his mind and body restless in equal measure, Will decides to sleep.

He pulls off his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and begins settling into bed. He turns over, facing the dresser, and his eyes lock on the bottom drawer. His fingers clutch at the sheets as he thinks of Zeller, remembers how they shared this space only hours ago. If he turns over, Will is sure he’ll find Zeller’s scent lingering in his sheets. He thinks about the t-shirt and he wonders if it smells like him, too.

Will is sitting up before he can stop himself, before he can think better of it and throw his sheets in the wash, followed up by a cold shower. His legs carry him across the room to the dresser, and he drops to his knees. He tugs off his own t-shirt, adding it to the pile of discarded clothes in the corner, and opens the drawer, blindly reaching for Zeller’s shirt. His heart beats against his ribcage when his fingers close around the soft cotton.

Will slips the shirt on and gets back into bed, burying his face in Zeller’s pillow. He thinks of happy memories, of dinner dates and late nights and lazy mornings, and lets those memories bleed into his dreams. Later, he will awaken to sore feet and a light in his face as a police officer asks him if he knows where he is, his restless body having carried him off into the night, accompanied only by Winston as he strolls the roads in his sleep. But for now, all is peaceful, and he lets sleep take him as Zeller’s face appears behind his eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please leave a kudos! Comments are super appreciated! If you want to find/follow/friend me on other platforms, here are my usernames! Don’t be shy! 
> 
> @bisexywill on Tumblr (Main Blog)  
> @bisexual-hannibal-lecter on Tumblr (Writing Blog)  
> @bisexywill on Twitter (Writing Updates & Stuff)  
> @baby mongoose#6953 on Discord


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